


[Abandoned WIP] Hey, It's Me

by istia



Series: Abandoned WIP [8]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Epistolary, M/M, Off-screen Rodney McKay/John Sheppard, POV Rodney McKay, Post-Episode: s03e10 The Return Part 1, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:32:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1886856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istia/pseuds/istia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse of Rodney's life on Earth, after the Asurans kick them out of Atlantis, via his phone messages to various expedition members. Set between The Return Part 1 and Part 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[Abandoned WIP] Hey, It's Me

**Author's Note:**

> As the title and the series indicate, this story is unfinished and will almost certainly remain so.

Hi, Elizabeth, it's me. Uh, Rodney. Rodney McKay. Um, yeah, just, you know, in case you don't recognize my voice and, who knows, Rodney isn't a hugely common name, but you might know more than one. Not that I've ever met another one, which is good, really--other than Rod, but he hardly counts--but...uh. Anyway, I just wanted to call and see how you're settling in? I heard you'd found an apartment. Yeah, somebody, somebody mentioned you'd moved off-base; not sure who, maybe just scuttlebutt?--not that we were _gossiping_ about you. Because that would be tacky. It's just, you know, interest. In how you're doing. How are you doing? Do you happen to be free tonight? For dinner? Radek's leaving for Brno tomorrow, so Sheppard and Carson and I are taking him out for a last meal. Well, not _last_ , so to speak, hopefully, but a, a, a final one for now. Before we meet again. Hopefully. Going on three years working together and all.... Uh, so, if you could join us? That would be great. I know Radek would love to see you a last time...well, a final time before meeting again, hopefully. Sometime. And Carson was wondering how you're settling into your new place and Sheppard's idea of cool is to be seen out with a beautiful woman. Not that, that you're a beautiful--well, you _are_ , but, I mean, we'd all like to see you as, as, as friends. Good, you know--and, and colleagues. And--yeah, so. If you can come, give me a call and one of us'll requisition a car and pick you up. Or you could meet us, if you prefer--anyway, we can talk about that when you call. Hey, your answering machine sure has a long message recor--

_beeeeep_

:::::::

Sheppard, it's me. I called Elizabeth, but she wasn't in and her cell's turned off, so I left a message. If you want to give her a call later, just to make sure she gets that the dinner's _tonight_ , that would be good because I'm going to be buried in the lab for the rest of the afternoon. Have to pick the last bits of marrow out of Zelenka's scrawny bones before he flits off to Mazaryk to a cushy life in academia (where I predict he'll be bored out of his skull within two weeks; what is he thinking?! He was on the verge of brain atrophy when I rescued him last time via the SGC's recruitment program. How quickly they forget!). Anyway, the plan is that we'll swing by your room and pick you up on our way out, unless Elizabeth calls and we have to arrange to pick her up, but that's not important now. Oh, and--

_beeep_

:::::::

Sheppard, you need to reprogram your fascist answering machine; it keeps cutting me off. What, does everybody else you know lack the ability to string more than five words together at one time? Anyway, I wanted to mention that if you don't get those skateboards out of my room, like, pronto, I'm going to reduce them to a big pile of pretty colored kindling. And that's not a threat, but a _fact_. The one I fell over last night while trying to get to the bathroom in the dark now has a big crack down it. Not that that's anything like the _bruise_ on my foot and the ache in my big toe, an injury which will probably lead to gout when I'm older no matter what Carson thinks he knows. Also--

_beeep_

:::::::

\--and also, there's a box of books I imagine must be yours, going by the She-Hulk trading card stuck in your elephantine paperweight. (Seriously rare and cool card. Thanks! A green woman with muscles and, uh, uh, developed...muscles...never goes out of style.) I can't understand how your boxes got mixed in with mine, unless screwing with personal effects is what passes as gleeful entertainment for Hermiod. Speaking of which, you didn't end up with a bunch of extra underwear, did you? I had to buy boxers from the commissary, where the color choices were khaki, olive, and patterned camouflage--I kid you not!--and the cotton is so stiff, I just know they're going to chaf--

_beeep_

:::::::

It's McKay. Where the hell _are_ you? I can't see how making arrangements for a piddling trip to Europe, after traversing _galaxies_ , could make you this late for our meeting. Also, haven't you Czechs heard of planning ahead? Leaving everything to the last minute is a sure indication of a lazy min-- Oh, about time. Never mind.

:::::::

Carson, it's me. Uh, Rodney. Have you heard from Elizabeth? If not, can you give her a call, see if she's on for tonight? Radek and I are swamped trying to finalize the science mission reports and-- Well. Maybe she'll respond better to you than to me? I can't see any reason why she would, but maybe worth a try. Sheppard's tied up in meetings. Okay, anyway, got to go, see you later, let me know if you hear anything.

:::::::

Well, excuse me for not realizing the She-Hulk was acting as a _bookmark_ and that you're still trying to read that ridiculous thing. I mean, come on, it's been over two years and you've only managed to get to page 357? Are you dyslexic and I never noticed? You're going to be old without the help of the Wraith by the time you manage to pick your way through the remaining 1,051 pages. And, yes, yes, okay, don't get excited, I've now stuck a piece of toilet paper in it to mark your spot. Heaven forbid you lose your place. Also, why am I not available every time you call me and you're not available every time I call you today? Is there some kind of communication consp--

_beeep_

:::::::

And I meant to mention, before your stupid machine interrupted me, that I've thrown out all your Sudoku books because, jeez, Sheppard, can't you find anything more _challenging_ to do with your spare time? Also, how am I supposed to know which skateboard cracked? It's not like I've studied each of them or _care_. But, all right, I have a vague memory of a shiny, bilious chartreuse with yellow-and-orange flames along each side for that particularly juvenile touch. At least you don't have to put your name on them. Oh, have to run, Zelenka's yelling for me, so much for a bathroom break, probably about to blow up something and get us all booted out of the SGC. And all we're doing is paper--

_beeep_

:::::::

Hi, Elizabeth, it's, it's me, again. Rodney, uh...Rodney. I'm just about to, to meet up with Sheppard and the others for dinner and hoped I might catch you in. It's not too late to join us? If you wanted to? We're going to the Sonterra Grill; we let Radek choose, and apparently Mexican style restaurants are thin on the ground in the Czech Republic, so. Anyway, our reservation is for seven-thirty, but if you wanted to join us just for, you know, just dessert or after-dinner drinks or something, that would be great, too. And, uh, anyway, I just wanted to let you know, and you have my cell phone number, right? And Sheppard's and Carson's? So, hope to hear from you, if we don't see you tonight. Talk to you soon. Bye.

:::::::

Major Lorne, this is Dr. McKay...uh, Rodney. McKay. Look, everything's kind of hazy after that little Czech bastard produced the bottle of Schnapps last night after dinner and started us off on rounds and rounds of toasts, but Sheppard says you're the one who got us all home safely and into our beds. And what's with that? Are you genetically engineered to be immune to shooters? No, don't answer that or I'll have to hate you. Or did you self-designate as safe driver and just sat there laughing as the rest of us got, apparently, _blotto_? (And I take back everything and anything I might ever have said about possibly potentially maybe going to miss the little Czech weasel being around.) And also, apparently, as we made complete _asses_ of ourselves, if my hideous memory of Beckett sobbing into a purloined bar napkin while Sheppard crooned _We'll Meet Again_ at Zelenka in the car while slobbering on my neck is, you know, a true memory and not just an alcohol-induced nightmare? (It was, right? Just a really, really bad dream?) Anyway, thanks for removing our, uh, shoes and do you happen to know where my jacket got to? Because I woke up with Sheppard's wrapped around me, which actually proved useful--though the dry cleaning bill to get the puke out is going to suck--but there was something, something, I'd, um-- Well, rather not-- In, in the pocket-- Um. Not lose. So, uh, if you know where it is? So I can get it back? Thanks. Bye.

:::::::

Well, of course I didn't tell him _what_ I've lost! I just asked, just, just very casually--with subtlety!--if he knew where my jacket has got to. And, well, mentioned I didn't want to lose _something_ from it, just to, to emphasize how much I need to find it. My jacket, that is. And there's no reason to be paranoid. Right? I mean, Lorne isn't going to go searching through my pockets now, is he? Oh, hell. He is, isn't he? Oh, my god. You have to go and order him not to look! You might not be his commanding officer anymore, but you still outrank him and that Lieutenant Colonel rigmarole should serve _some_ purpose other than making you preen in front of the mirror!

:::::::

Elizabeth, hi, it's Rodney. Um, McKay. We missed you at Radek's farewell dinner the other night. I'm just calling because, uh, Radek asked me to say goodbye to you, and, well, I hope you're settling in your new place okay? You might've heard Carson's found an apartment, too, and will be moving off-base this weekend; he's roped Sheppard and me in to help him. I don't know why Sheppard agreed, but I'm only going along for the bottle of Glenlivet Carson's promised to have on hand. Anyway, that, that's not interesting. Sorry. Just hope you're okay and I look forward to talking to you soon. Bye.

:::::::

Listen, Sheppard, when Carson said "help me shift a few wee boxes," did that sound to you like "engage in hard manual labor for untold hours that'll leave you with agonized knots in your back requiring a chiropractor's services, probably for the rest of your life"? Because even for forty-year-old single malt, I'm not sure--

_brripp_

:::::::

Christ on a ping-pong ball, Sheppard, your voice mail is even more fascist than the answering machine in your office! I'm never talking to this thing again! It's your turn to call me! My meeting should end by five, so my cell'll be on after that. Also, the hideous cerise skateboard is now chipped, which was totally not my--

_brripp_

:::::::

Listen, Carson--oh, it's me, McKay--are you going to be around for a bit after you get finished beating the voodoo drums in the med lab? Because I can't decide whether to go with a Thai or Italian restaurant you and Sheppard should take me to for the surprise farewell dinner for me you must be planning. I mean, on one hand, there's Baked Penne Regati, but, on the other hand, there's Phad Khing with Pineapple Fried Rice. And then there's the desserts-- Oh, damn, what is that idiot _doing_? Got to go, call me, bye.

:::::::

Uh, hey, it's me. Just a hypothetical question, out of the blue, no real reason for asking, you know, just, just shooting the breeze--so to speak--and totally speaking theoretically, but you weren't, by any chance, actually fond of that, um, Johnny Cash poster, were you?

:::::::

Elizabeth, I was hoping to catch you home this time. It's Rodney. Yeah, me. Again. I really hope everything's going okay? And things are settling down? We were all sorry you couldn't make it to the dinner with Radek, so I was wondering if you'd be able to join us tomorrow evening? I'm leaving for Area 51 on Thursday, so Sheppard and Carson are taking me to the steakhouse on South Tejon. I was leaning towards Thai, but I, uh, kind of owe Sheppard a favor and he's a horrible whiner, so steaks it is. But I'm sure it'll be great! And we'd enjoy seeing you. Join us, if you can, okay? Or let us know and we'll pick you up. Okay, uh, well, bye.

:::::::

All right, you know what? I've said I was sorry more times than you did when you _shot_ me! It's just a big piece of paper, you know! Not flesh and blood and bone, and did I mention _my blood_? Also, this is really reminding me of my sister, who continually left her Eaton Beauty Doll lying around my bedroom even though I kept warning her to take the thing away, then she used to scream when I put it up on a high shelf. Of course, she was only four at the time. But you? You need to think about the bigger picture and more important things with vast global significance and, and, uh, stuff like that. Oh, and when you come to pick me up to take me to my surprise dinner party, could you bring me a T-shirt I can borrow? The base laundry's turned all my clean ones a kind of olive-khaki. No wonder the boxers start out that way. And I better go before your stupid machi--

_beeep_

:::::::

Lorne, hi, it's Dr. McKay...Rodney...uh, me. I got your message. Good to hear my jacket's safe! Big relief because, uh, yeah, because I was missing it and, and it has, you know, sentimental value. Well, sort of. Though, uh, actually, it's not much to look at and doesn't fit that well, but I'm totally, you know, sentimental! About it. The jacket, I mean. So could you bring it along to my surprise dinner tonight? Or we could swing by your place and pick it up--you moved off-base, right? Sheppard seems to be the only one still living in the mountain; and me, of course, but since I'm leaving, no point.... Anyway, I'll be glad to get it back, sentimental reasons and all, and, and the thing in it. Which will still be in the pocket, I'm sure, no need to look or check or anything. It's not really that important. It's nothing, really. Would seven be too early? Let me know, thanks.

:::::::

Okay, it's all right, Lorne found it. My _jacket_ , I mean, nothing else! I don't think. He sounded exactly like his usual dryly amused self when he left the message, so it's hard to tell. I got your point about threatening him maybe only making him more curious, so I was, you know, discreet. I'm waiting for him to let me know when we can pick it up. Just thought I'd let you know so you can stop panicking now--which is totally not a good look on you, by the way. Probably nobody'd think much about it if they saw it, anyway. People carry stuff around like that all the time. Right? Not a big deal. Probably doesn't matter at all. I better get off the line in case I miss his call. 


End file.
